


Store-Bought Cookies

by Phoenexus



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cool Patrol, Alternate Universe - High School, Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenexus/pseuds/Phoenexus
Summary: Mark and Jack are called to the principal's office for a prank that the Cool Patrol orchestrated. It's all Mark's fault and he knows it, so how does he make it up to Jack?





	Store-Bought Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrinceyPru (Princesspruprupoo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princesspruprupoo/gifts).



> How long ago did PrinceyPru suggest this…??? Oh yeah, 45 days ago. Here you go finally!

Metallic isn’t a fun taste; nor is it a fun smell. Well, that’s what Mark imagines because currently he can’t smell whatsoever. There is currently blood leaking into his mouth, and no matter how many times he wipes his nose with his sleeve, it keeps rushing.

Mark turns to glance at the culprit of this whole mess. Despite the small size of the wooden bench the two of them were directed to sit on, the other boy has taken it upon himself to make an invisible barrier between the two of them. He’s so far away from Mark that he looks like he’s about to fall off .

The kid’s arms are folded tight against his chest. He is looking forwards, focused on simply looking away from Mark. His cheeks are bright red, whether it’s from embarrassment or being punched, it’s unclear. His eye is beginning to bruise up and his lip is badly bleeding. His white uniform shirt has red stains on it too. Over all, he looks like a pissed off mess.

“Hey, Jack…” Mark tries to smile at Jack, giving him a slight wave. Jack turns his head ever so slightly. He simply stares full daggers into Mark’s own eyes. Jack’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. His nose twitches in disgust.

Mark mumbles, “Okay…sorry,” and Jack turns away.

Back to awkward silence. Mark rubs his hands together, plays with the zipper of his black leather jacket and then simply leans against the white wall behind. He sucks in a deep breath and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

The bell for the next period rings and students begin to walk to their next class. No one passes Jack and Mark for no one goes down the office hallway besides one girl with blonde hair who offers Mark a sympathetic look. She has a pass in her hand, clearly off to see a counselor.

“Good luck Amy,” Mark grins at her. She nods and offers him a grin.

“You too,” She offers with a quick glance in Jack’s direction. Jack looks away from her and at nothing. She shrugs and continues on her way.

The bell rings again and class has begun. The hallways are empty once more and Mark leans back into the wall once again. He closes his eyes for a split second and takes a moment to breath.

To breath and to let go of the anxiety in his chest. He may have gotten in trouble before, but he’s never been caught doing anything bad enough to get him sent to the principal’s office. Hell, he’s the least likely in his friend group to even be sent to the office.

But he’s done bad things before and he has been in trouble before. So he doesn’t understand why he’s so incredibly nervous. He opens his eyes and shifts away from the wall, placing his head in his hands. He lets out a frustrated sigh.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark notices Jack look at him. His eyes burn with something, maybe hatred, maybe hurt, maybe a mixture of both and a little more. Mark closes his eyes again. God he feels like a fucking jerk. His heart won’t stop beating a mile a minute.

Just as Mark turns to Jack, lifting his head and getting ready to say something stupid, Jack sighs.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Jack retorts. Mark looks taken back. This is the kid that has a bloody, broken nose in front of him. This is the kid that barely knew how to throw a punch. Now his eyes are daggers and cut into Mark, who finds himself shrinking back ever so slightly.

“Sorry,” Is all Mark can say. He’s about to say something bolder, but the door nearby opens with a whoosh. Both of the boys look up with surprise. Jack’s defensive nature falling away. Mark… he just looks tense. A hand motions for them both to step inside.

Jack is the first to walk into the principal’s office. He has this determined gaze about him. He’s very rigid, stiff in the way he walks, as if he’s got a stick up his ass. Mark wouldn’t be surprised if this was the case. Would explain his inability to fight well and his pissed off expression currently.

Despite himself, Mark chuckles. Jack twitches his head to glare at Mark. Mark shuts up, but he still smiles. Jack turns back around, practically fuming.

The two of them sit down in the two seats in front of the principal’s cheap looking desk. It’s made out of cheap material, the same as the various student’s desks inside the school. The small bit of personality that makes this desk stand out is the fact that it is littered with odd knick knacks designed to make the desk more welcoming. There are several naked trolls, which Mark finds uncomfortable to look at. So instead he focuses on something else. He finds himself currently eye locked with the dead, cold eyes of one of America’s worst presidents, Andrew Jackson. Mark scrunches his nose and decides to just turn away.

Jack’s arms are still folded across his chest and he sits upright so that he is barely touching the back of his chair. He looks almost like he’s holding his breath in anticipation. Mark turns away before Jack notices his gaze.

The principal before them is a stern old man. He’s clean shaven. Grey hairs make up his thinning hairline that ends with creases of worry lines on his forehead. This is not the type of man you want to tussle with. Yet here they both were staring up at him waiting for a response.

He looks down at them while he has both of his hands on his table. A deep frown is carved into the bottom half of his face. Mark gulps down nerves and puts on a defensive, cool expression.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Mark notices Jack’s panicked expression. In the face of power, Jack crumbles. 

The principal, Mr. Newman, lets out a deep, exaggerated, and disappointed sigh, turning away from both of them. He adjusts his glasses and sets his sights on a nearby, neatly organized bookshelf. He grabs a large book and begins to flip through it.

“Um sir?” Mark dares to speak. He is instantly shushed by Mr. Newman. Mark settles back into his chair while Jack looks down at his feet.

Mr. Newman keeps flipping, glazing over each page trying to search for something there. Finally, he stops and places the book in front of Mark and Jack.

“Now Mark, Sean-”

“Jack please,” Mark hears Jack whisper under his breath. Mr. Newman doesn’t catch the correction and continues to speak.

“Please look at this.” He points to a large photograph. Mark adjusts his chair so he can fully see.

It’s a picture from ages ago. You see, the high school, being from a small and thoroughly connected town is the only one in the area. This means that the local elementary school and middle school all feed into the same program.

So the picture from ages ago is from forever ago. There is the entire school, all the high schoolers, middle schoolers, and elementary school children thrown together, a tradition that became to hectic to continue a few years later.

And as Mark looked closer, he could see the dinosaur shirt that he swears his mom still has somewhere in their house as a keepsake. The person wearing the shirt, younger Mark, is grinning. He’s showing off newly missing teeth to the camera. He looks thrilled to be there among friends.

Then Mark looks a little further and there is the smaller figure of Jack, directly next to Mark with a huge grin on his glowing face. His hair's a natural brown, messy, and untamable, and he has a shark bandaid on his cheek. His knees have holes on the knees and they looked scrapped. He looks excited, but scruffy. Mark looks back to Jack.

The guy before him, though scruffy and bloody, is not the same kid in the picture. He is too tense, too uptight, to be this kid full of energy and life. Mark feels bad for Jack.

That is until Jack meets his gaze with a frown. He looks back to the picture for a moment with an intense furrowed brow. With a sigh, he slumps back into his chair. He looks defeated.

“Why are you showing us this?” Jack asks, genuinely curious.

Mr. Newman sighs. He closes the book with a soft thud and stands up to place it back on the shelf. When he returns to the desk, he leans against it so he is directly in front of Mark and Jack.

“Look, boys,” He begins. “I understand that boys will be boys. You’ll fight sometimes. As much as my staff and I try, we can’t stop  **all** the fighting.” There is a melancholy dip to his voice and a pause after that statement. Mark looks away nervously.

“However,” Mr. Newman continues. “This doesn’t mean that we can’t try and prevent as much fighting as we can. And your recent behavior is questionable. It is disrespectful to the school, to your classmates, to your teachers, but more importantly, yourselves. Do you two feel good about your actions?” Jack shakes his head on command, still fascinated by the ground. Mark takes a bit longer, but eventually he looks Mr. Newman directly in the eye.

“No.”

“Good,” Mr. Newman responds. He looks at Mark for a moment, lost in thought or simply reading Mark’s currently actions, then he turns to Jack.  Jack picks up his head tensely with flushing cheeks. Mr. Newman offers him a softer look, but his frown remains. “You two are very bright kids.”

“McLoughlin,” Mr. Newman addresses Jack, who sits up a bit straighter. “I know you are a good student. Your teachers only say good things about you, your test scores are commendable. You are the ideal student and I can only see great things in your future.” Jack nods, still tense.

“Fischbach,” Mr. Newman turns to Mark. He thinks for a moment, thoughts flickering in his eyes for a pause. “Your spirit in class, when you apply yourself, is never out matched. I’ve heard the way your math and science teachers talk about you. You are the top student in those classes and always have been. You just…have some rough patches. I’m sure that we can fight through it though. You just need some extra guidance.”

Mark shuffles uncomfortably and looks back towards the door. He feels a bit hot and sticky underneath his leather jacket, but doesn’t want to take it off. He forgot to clean off the blood on his arm from the fight earlier. He figures that if Mr. Newman saw it, it would only bring up more uncomfortable topics and some concern from Mr. Newman that Mark did not want right now.

“But I can’t ignore this turn of events,” Mr. Newman says, his voice growing more serious. “This was a terrible offense. Though it is your first one McLoughlin.” Jack nods, head lowered. “We saw each other once or twice last year, didn’t we Mark?”

“Yessir,” Mark says as he rushes his words together with an asskissing grin. Mr. Newman is not amused.

“I’ve also heard from your teachers that you’ve had at least five detentions already this year,” Mr. Newman folds his arms across his chest.

“Yeah,” Mark admits. “A lot of misunderstandings thou-”

“They didn’t sound like that Mark,” Mr. Newman sighs. “Look. I don’t know how to get through to you that you need to change your ways. Not for me, not for other students, or teachers or whoever. But for yourself. One day, you are going to see that acting out is getting you nowhere in life. There will be consequences more severe than detention in the future.”

Mark doesn’t respond. Instead, he just looks at the ground, bobbing his head in acknowledgment ever so slightly.”

“Therefore, both of you are suspended for the rest of the day.”

Mark’s head shoots up with a look of surprise.

“When you get back, you must attend detention for the next month. Is that understood?”

Mark tries to stop himself from jumping for joy at the fact that he won’t have to go to history next period or any of his other classes. Instead, he stands up as calmly as possible and nods, trying not to grin or even smile.

“But that’s unfair,” Jack pipes up. Both Mr. Newman and Mark turn to him. “This is my first time getting into trouble at this school! I-I shouldn’t be getting suspended!” Jack’s outrage is bubbling over and he’s now standing out of his chair. He points to Mark.

“Why do we both have the same punishment if he’s gotten in trouble more than me? I thought this school stood for fairness, for equality, and for knowledge above everything else. By suspending me, you are taking away my right to get an education, my right to learn! You are preventing me from having the basic right to acquire knowledge. Preventing me from going to school is against the law!” Jack’s eyes are icy blue, flaming as he glares at the principal. Though he earlier was quiet and sophisticated, that all has disappeared and now the true Jack stands before the two of them: a scared and hurt kid who is a fucking goody-two-shoes. Mark rolls his eyes and scoffs at Jack.

Jack’s fury turns to Mark and instantly Mark tenses up.

“Just because you don’t care about your future based on your reckless and thoughtless actions does not mean that-”

“Sean,” Mr. Newman interrupts. “Your unchecked rage and your fist raised in the air proves the point of suspending the both of you.” Jack lowers his fist, looking at it as if shocked it was suspended in the first place. 

“Furthermore,” Mr. Newman continues. “This is a bad offense that affected a multitude of students, students who were distracted during their midterms. You two are both  **equally** responsible.”

“But-” Jack protests.

“No,” Mr. Newman stands to his full height, an intimidating tower of stature. “There are no protests, ands, or buts.” His voice is stern, his eyes are narrowed. “Both of you need to learn from your mistakes. If you want to avoid this, think before you act next time. I can always extend it if you wish?”

No one makes a sound. “That’s what I thought.” With that, Mr. Newman steps towards the phone.

“Now if you excuse me children,” Mr. Newman’s voice is ice, “I have some phone calls to make right now to your parents. Please wait in here for a moment.” He disappears to a side office.

The fire within Jack’s eyes have extinguished completely.

-✩-

“This is fucked up,” Mark says, though he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying. The two of them are walking out of the school together. Mark trails slightly behind Jack, who seems determined to get out of here as soon as possible. He jogs slightly to catch up so that the two of them are walking side-by-side, but Jack hardly acknowledges him.

Both of them have been let out without their parents coming to the school. Mark had expected this from his parents since they were out of the state visiting his mom’s parents on family business that he was hardly interested in. This meant that Mark was on his own for the moment and that suited him just fine.

What was odd was that perfect student over here, Jack, wasn’t picked up either. Mark couldn’t hear what Mr. Newman was saying to them, but from the look on his face, he was not pleased. Jack didn’t hadn’t looked pleased either, but he also didn’t look surprised.

As curious as Mark is, he knows not to pry. So he tries not to.

“So what are you going to do on your day out of jail?” Mark elbows Jack. This only earns him a scoff and Jack’s pace to quicken ever so slightly. So, Mark’s pace quickens slightly too.

Mark looks over Jack’s shoulder, ever so slightly. As Jack walks, he gazes at his phone. Jack bites his lip as he types something into his phone and then shoves the phone in his pocket with a panic in his expression. He’s still biting his lip and he stares at his feet.

Mark takes a deep breath. He relaxes and lets a calm smile rest upon his face. He jogs slowly up to Jack’s side. 

Jack gives him a sideways glance, but doesn’t try to get away. So Mark takes this as a good sign and begins speaking.

“I can’t believe that the school thinks that suspending us is a good idea,” Mark almost chuckles. “Like, how does that promote good behavior?” He looks to catch Jack, to see if he’s getting any kind of response from him. Nothing.

“Not going to lie,” Mark continues and looks back in front of him. “I’m kinda excited to get out of class.” Mark opens the door for both of them. Jack lifts his head for a split second to catch Mark’s gaze.

Mark almost freezes under Jack’s gaze. Even though it lasts for a split second, the trouble clouding over in his eyes and the tears that are just lingering below the surface startle Mark.

Sure. Mark had seen Jack upset, but never, not in all the years that Mark had seen Jack kicked around had Mark ever seen Jack bat an eye. Never mind cry.

The shock disappears as Jack turns to the ground again and steps outside.

Without missing a beat between the gaze and Jack’s exit, Mark continues talking. “And this is exactly the issue! What if I begin to enjoy this freedom of getting out of class too much? Then I’ll keep missing class and how does that help the school? They’re supposed to be educating me, preparing me for the future. If I keep missing days, that is the school’s fault at this point, not mine. My parents will be piss-”

“Hey Dad,” Jack interrupts as he presses his phone to his ear.

Mark sighs. He turns away from Jack, heart heavy for whatever reason. He’s a troublemaker, an asshole, an overall bad kid. 

Jack isn’t though. Yet, he got into the same mess that Mark did. Mr. Newman is known to be fair. He doles out punishments to the bad and rewards to the good. He never takes the time to unfairly persecute an overall good kid.

That’s what Jack is. He’s a good kid. Straight A student, a member of the computer club, and a nice, boring guy that never gets any attention. So, isn’t it a bit odd that Mr. Newman would group him up with one of the worst kids in the school?

Lost in thought, Mark only notices when he blinks that he has found his way back to his car. With a shrug, Mark shuffles through his bag until he finds his car keys. With a click, the car unlocks and Mark slides in.

He closes his eyes, taking a moment or two just to let out a sigh of relief. When he feels ready, Mark clicks his key in place and the engine roars to life.

Mark smiles down at the wheel. Before he places a foot upon the pedal, he adjusts the rearview mirror with a careful hand.

As he does so,  Mark catches a glimpse of Jack and stops.

Jack hugs his side with one arm while the other one holds a phone up to his ear. He is focused on the ground with an intense and unmoving stare. The hollowness and unmoving nature of his entire body puts Mark on edge. Because at any moment, Jack could spring into action with all the pressure he’s under.

“Hey Jack.”

Jack jumps, almost dropping his phone in the process. Jack’s eyes dart to Mark before his attention returns to the phone and he says a swift good bye.

“Wanna ride home?”

“Uhh…” Jack looks Mark’s ride up and down skeptically. His shoulders shake slightly. The spring has sprung.

“Thanks for the offer,” Jack responds slowly. “But I’m good.” He offers a reassuringly fake smile and a curt wave. With that, he begins to walk away.

“Are you sure?” Mark catches up to Jack. Jack adjusts his backpack on his shoulders and a glare finds its way onto his face. He’s still shaking.

“Yeah,” Jack replies through gritted teeth. “I’m sure.”

There’s a pause before he stalks off again. Jack is a spring, so tightly wound that there’s no way he can unwind without some help. Mark searches Jack, for a way to make it up to him. Why?

Mark’s asking himself that as he stares into Jack’s eyes.

Because Mark can see through that harsh look. The crack in Jack’s hard demeanor had showed itself when he was on the phone. And once more, it’s showing itself as Jack looks like he wants to say more under that glare. Jack’s lips part slightly as if he really was going to say something.

Mark wants to say something too. The words never come in time. Jack’s head snaps away. A pair of earbuds obscure whatever Mark had wanted to say. All that is left is to give up.

“Fine,” Mark mutters under his breath and presses on the gas pedal.

-✩-

With a puff from a cigarette, Mark stares up at the grey sky.

The atmosphere, a brooding and darkness of mist, fits into the current thoughts within Mark’s head.

The shame of suspension finally coils out in the wisps around him. Finally, Mark feels the weight of what he’s done and the disappointment that he can feel from his parents. He stares ahead into the streets before him from a semi-empty parking lot. 

There’s no one about due to the impending rain. The emptiness, usually a welcoming feeling, is too much to handle at the moment. Hands in pocket, cigarette burning in his mouth, and a frown on his face, Mark knows that he’s the disappointment of the family and the weight crushes.

So what had he done to make up for the pain he would be inflicting upon his parents this evening when they returned from their respectable jobs?

So first, they would be pissed and this would be when the lecture would begin. They’d explain that Mark was ruining his future, that he needed to focus more on studying and less on his no-good group of punks. Maybe in the middle of it all, Mark would begin to break down and apologize through a burst of burning tears. Through hiccups he’d apologize and wipe his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie.

His parents would begin to melt, falling for his trick. To add more to the dramatics, Mark would promise to change his ways. He’d start coming home each day directly after school, put actual effort into each assignment he was given, and maybe even stop the smoking.

With the promise of a bright future, the three of them would have a group hug. Mark would be alright. His parents would be alright. Everything would be alright. But just in case, Mark would apologize again.

And they’d believe him, like so many times before.

Things would change for a bit, for a month. They always did. Then right back to old habits.

Oh, and Mark also got a few groceries from Marvin’s just in case his parents were especially angry this time.

Mark pulls out the crumpled bit of paper from his back pocket that he had been told to pick up weeks ago.

“Milk, check. Bananas, check. Tea, check. Oreos, not on here, but check.” Satisfied, he nods and slams the trunk shut.

Mark drives onto the main road. With the mist and fog, the orange pulsing of street lamps guide him down the road. They are but a blur as Mark keeps up his edgy appearance and drives without a care in the world. Maybe if he drives fast enough his problems will be lost within the greyness consuming everything.

As the fog grows thicker, Mark slows down. The amount of greyness grows darker and the chances of rain grow immensely. Mark stares up at the sky, some awe over coming him. There’s only silence since his radio broke a long time ago.

His attention turns out the window, trying to see more of the haze. Instead, he catches sight of a familiar figure standing under the glow of orange. Confused and curious, Mark turns off the main road and silently parks.

Being as quiet as he can, Mark walks towards the figure with hands in his pocket and the cigarette still in his mouth.

“Were you just saying no to my ride offer so you wouldn’t have to pay me back for gas?” Mark chuckles as Jack once again jumps. “Because don’t worry about-”

Mark’s voice falters as he stares back into Jack’s eyes.

He’s shivering, folding into himself. Jack’s shoulders are tense and his entire demeanor is defensive. He tries to look away, to hide whatever fear that lingers within his chest, but Mark has already seen through him.

“Hey are you okay man?” Mark tries to ask.

Jack’s eyes narrow. Mark steps back and Jack turns away. He turns and sits upon the bench behind and rests his head in his hand.

A moment of silence extends over the two of them in that haze. In the greyness, they appear to be the only people in the entire world.

Mark sits down nearby, still waiting for his answer. He offers Jack an understanding, somewhat sympathetic smile. In return, there’s only a stare.

It’s going to rain soon.

“Yeah.” There is a stern confidence in Jack’s voice. Yet there he is in a bunched up, defensive posture. “Now can you please leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

Mark’s face grows red, but instead of fleeing, of running away, he holds his ground. He doesn’t look away from Jack, surprising both of them. In fact, he scoots over closer to Jack, surprising both of them once more.

“Look Jack,” He starts off in a shaky voice. Jack furrows his eyebrows in confusion, unnerved by the sincerity.

“Yeah?” Jack asks.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

The two stare at each other, neither of them changing expression or opening their mouths to speak because to say something would ruin the real moment that lied between two enemies. The only sound that could be heard was the patter of rain that had begun to fall around them. One falls on Jack’s nose.

With a sigh, Jack stands to his feet and stares up at the sky. His hands rest within pockets of a worn out hoodie that caused the shivering from earlier. By his side, Mark stands and looks towards Jack expecting something more. He searches Jack for an answer to whatever laid upon his mind.

He had never noticed it really, but they were basically the same height. He smiled with a knowing, understanding smile that you only see on someone overcome with realization and regret.

“So…” Mark begins to say. Jack turns to look at him, an unreadable expression within his blue eyes. They are a deeper blue from the rain all around them and like pools of water, reflect back at Mark. Does Jack feeling the same feelings that Mark can’t pinpoint in that moment.

All Mark can do though is say,  “Do you want a ride home?” 

Jack’s face falls, his expression grows darker, and Mark’s heart sinks.  “No.”

“Why not?” Mark shakes his head in confusion with a motion to the sky. “It’s gonna pour!” Jack just shrugs and tries to keep warm by folding his arms over his chest. Mark catches a glimpse of slightly blue knuckles covered in unclean bloody cuts.

“I appreciate your apology,” Jack answers. “But…” He sighs. “That’s not going to make it better just like this…” His voice grows gritter, more impatient and blunt. “You can’t possibly expect me to want to be around you. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.” He mutters that last bit to the ground that he gazes into as if it could consume him. He’d let it consume him in this moment rather than be next to Mark.

Mark’s shoulders fall and he feels himself reach out to Jack. “Look-” Mark hesitates.

“No,” Jack interrupts as he jerks to look at Mark. “ **You** look.” He grows closer to Mark and Mark draws back. His cigarette is burning out. “You can’t expect me to ever…ever understand why you did what you… you did. Fuck you Mark.” His eyes are tearless, but the cracks in his voice and the redness in his cheeks gives true emotion away. The pain that Mark has caused is as plain as those knuckles, as that busted up lip, and as those red eyes that refuse to show a single tear because Jack would never want Mark to have that satisfaction.

But that wouldn’t satisfy Mark at all. Jack doesn’t realize this yet, but Mark knows that when he apologizes to his parents, he will mean it this time.

Just to prove it, Mark takes the cigarette out of his mouth and crushes it beneath his soggy sneakers.

Jack doesn’t blink and instead stares with intense hatred at Mark. And then he turns and walks away from Mark, who stares at his back without moving, only listening to his own heart beating in his chest and trying to reach out to the troubled kid before him. A kid that Mark had never thought of as much more than an objective, as something to impress his friends with and fulfill a prank that they had given him.

Jack, before a few hours ago, hadn’t even been a real, live person. But as the grey consumes Jack and he begins to disappear, Mark realizes with widening eyes that he had broken something within Jack. 

Jack’s figure walks in the rain and Mark spies on him from his car. The moment of silence, of watching Jack under the orange glow. With an impulsive thought, Mark’s engine roars to life.

The car roars to life and zips forwards. “Hey Jack.”

“Fuck off,” Jack hisses without even looking in Mark’s direction.

“Wanna ride home?”

Jack closes his eyes in irritation and tightens the grip on his backpack straps.  
“No,” Jack responds. “Go away.”

“Let me rephrase that.” Mark swerves just as Jack nears a cross walk. Now blocking his path, Mark stares at Jack.

“Do you want a ride home?”

“Can you just leave me alone?” Jack whimpered, his defenses breaking down as the rain washed over him. By now, Jack’s green hair was sticking to his forehead.

“It’s raining.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is. Good job Sherlock.” 

“So you’re going to get soaked,” Mark points out.

“What’s it to you?” Jack sneers.

“Well…I’ve already made your day pretty shitty. I feel like if you catch a cold from this weather, that’s on me.” Jack scoffs and as the walk signal pops up, Jack walks around Mark’s car and across the sidewalk.

Determination roars inside of Mark and he moves to catch up as Jack walks forwards.

“I won’t stop following you.” Jack stops walking and looks towards Mark.

Mark shrugs,“it’s the least I can do. Gotta make sure that you get home safe in this weather.”

Jack groans.

“Fine,” He grits his teeth and stomps behind the car. Mark grins as he hears the door open and watches as Jack slides into the seat nearby. When Jack notices Mark’s smile, he folds his arms aggressively and stares outside, making sure to let Mark know that he hasn’t won. Mark chuckles and the car begins to move again.

“Okay,” Mark’s voice is more chipper. “You’re gonna have to point me in the right direction.”

“Yeah,” Jack responds and goes back to staring out at the rain pattering softly against the window. This time, he rests his head in his hand and continues to shiver. Mark turns up the heat silently and Jack’s shoulders untense just barely, but enough to make Mark smile again.

Despite the warmer atmosphere inside the car, Mark keeps his eyes on the road and his mouth closed. The greyness outside requires all of his attention and focus, even if his eyes keep wandering in Jack’s direction. Maybe he’s afraid that Jack will strangle him or will try and jump out of the car. Neither happens.

“Okay now turn left onto Moore Road,” Jack whispers without looking in his direction. Mark nods and does so. He turns to look back at Jack for another direction.

Jack is now sitting upright at full attention. Though he’s no longer shaking, Jack seems to be holding his breath as they roll down a street full of perfectly alike houses being splashed with rain. Jack looks at each house as if the next one will reach out and swallow the car whole. Mark’s hands tighten over the steering wheel in an anticipation of danger.

The houses beyond the warm car seem cold and empty, devoid of any life whatsoever. Everyone is out and about at this moment, whether it is at school, work, or other various places of importance. It’s eerie, there’s no doubt about that.

“Now right onto Wren Way,” Jack directs. Mark turns right. “And stop at number 30…4, here.” The car parks on the side of the road. Jack makes no movement. Instead, his eyes just stare ahead. He bites his lip and Mark can see a bead of blood resurfacing.

Before Mark can comment, Jack shudders slightly and pops open the car door. He grabs his bag and climbs out onto a perfectly manicured and way too green lawn. Before he closes the door though, he sticks his head back in.

“Thanks,” He replies without any sort of expression and the door slams.

“No problem…” Mark responds as Jack walks away to the door and slides a key in place. The door opens into a dark house and Jack disappears.

-✩-

Fast forwards to a little later.

Here Mark is again, sitting in his car in the rain. The interior of the car has been consumed by the irresistible smell of frozen cookie dough cookies. Freshly made, but not homemade, and they’re also chocolate chip, the very best kind. Though plain, unoriginal, and cheap, they are hopefully a kind enough effort. Furthermore, they sit in a cute little tin that hopefully Mark’s mom won’t notice it’s gone.

Mark sits there in the front seat of his car, sweating slightly because of stupid nerves. He rubs his hands profusely together and stares at the rain trickling on his windshield.

It is later in the evening, but his parents aren’t going to be a home for a bit. That means that Mark has some time before he has to face them and still some time to make it up to someone who didn’t deserve anything except a box full of cookies.

With a deep breath and an impulsive need to move and to get it over with, Mark swings his door open. He grabs the cookies with one hand and closes the door lightly.

He looks over the hood of his car and into the window on the door of the house. He knows it’s not abandoned, but it sure looks like it inside. He takes another deep breath, trying to calm a palpitating heart. He heads towards Jack’s front door.

There’s a light on the front stair of the door, but it keeps flickering. Needs to be changed, Mark thinks to himself. Maybe he should’ve brought a spare light bulb. That’s more helpful than cookies…

It doesn’t matter anymore Mark decides and he prepares to knock on the door.

“What the  **hell** are you talking about!” Mark shrinks from the door. Someone screams in agony in response. There are more words exchanged and the tone grows more dangerous. The shouts grow louder and there’s a thud from the inside. Someone begins to cry and another person shouts over the tears and there are more loud banging sounds that follow with sharp remarks to follow. Mark backs away from the door.

He curses under his breath. He knows this isn’t a good time to disturb Jack and his family, but Mark knows that he needs to attempt to make up with Jack. He also knows that if he doesn’t do it now, that he might never muster up the courage to do this again. It’s now or never Mark decides. So he begins to circle the house for another entrance.

And bingo! There in front of him, a tree extends its branches out far enough towards a nearby window. It even has a sturdy enough trunk to support a treehouse. Mark beams and heads towards it.

At first, Mark plans to just leave it in the treehouse and just hopes that Jack will check it at some point. Mark had already added a piece of duct tape on the outside of the tin with a short apology made out to Jack, just in case no one was home and he could just place it at the front door, which he could still do.

Mark turns to look back at the direction of the door. He hears another thud and he whips his head back. Those cookies won’t be waiting outside in front of that door.

Honestly, Jack should just have these cookies. The people screeching at each other don’t deserve these slightly crappy, but thoughtful cookies that Mark made. Only Jack, through all the hardships he’s gone through, has reached the caliber it takes to receive these cookies. Mark smiles to himself.

So Mark climbs into the barren treehouse and prepares to just leave the cookies up here, but then looks to his right. His eyes adjust to the light coming from the slightly opened window.

There is Jack. He’s sitting on his bed staring down as he wraps bandages around his shaking hands and bleeding knuckles. Somehow, the hoodie exaggerates the dark circles beneath his eyes and brings out a new bruise on his cheek that Mark is sure wasn’t there earlier today.

Mark knows he could just leave the cookies and maybe it’s best not to bother Jack, whose eyes are definitely red and who is definitely crying right now. Mark knows that it’s not his place to do anything right now and that he shouldn’t have heard all the yelling or noticed that bruise and that this is all very, very personal business. But damn it. Mark isn’t great at leaving people alone, especially not Jack and especially not today.

Mark takes his chance and climbs over the railing of the treehouse with all the carefulness that he can muster. He steps a sturdy branch that gets close enough to Jack’s window in order to tap on it. With only one hand, he pulls himself towards the light, trying to think of what to say when he gets to Jack.

He doesn’t have enough time because Jack shivers. Mark freezes as he sees Jack begin to get up and turn towards him-

“What the-” Jack cuts himself off with panic and lowers his voice to a whispered warning. “What the fuck are you doing here Mark?” He opens the window further, motioning for Mark to come inside. Mark shakes his head.

“Just here to drop off a better apology,” Mark says with a smile as he offers the tin of cookies.

Jack just stares at him for a moment. With his blank face, Mark is sure that he isn’t comprehending what’s happening in this very moment. Jack looks down to the tin, blinking at it a few times and then at Mark’s face. His eyebrows are furrowed, but not in an angry way and instead in simple confusion.

“Thank you-”

“Oh and I also have this letter,” Mark mentions, sitting up on the branch and carefully taking out a slightly damp letter from his jacket’s pocket. “It’s a bit damp, but hopefully still readable.” He offers it to Jack.

“Thanks,” Jack replies quietly. He reaches out, taking both the tin and the letter. He still looks confused.

“I just wanted to say,” Mark says as he scratches the back of his head. “I am so sorry Jack. I hope some day you can forgive me…” Mark pauses and Jack looks up from the tin. “I really do.”

“I can’t say that I forgive you…” Jack whispers. “But…maybe someday I could.” Jack offers Mark a grim smile, eyes still red with fresh tears.

“But,” Jack’s smile falls and he leans against the window. “This doesn’t really mean anything, does it?”

“What?” Mark responds, his face falling too. All this hard work, for nothing but a stone cold look from Jack once more? The rain is cold on his back and despite his rain jacket, he can feel the rain soaking into his skin

“Well,” Jack continues. “When we get back to school, everything will just shift back into how it was. Only difference is that this time I’ll be joining you and the “Cool Patrol” in detention. You’re still a bully and I’m still that nerdy kid that nobody likes.”

Mark looks at Jack. Mark wishes that Jack was wrong or that there was some bit of evidence that Mark could use to refute Jack’s point. There is none because Jack has just spoken the truth that Mark was trying to ignore. No matter how much punishment he goes through at school, Mark always goes back to his old ways eventually. Everything always goes back to how it was, whether he likes it or not. In this small, grey, and dreary town, nothing ever changes it.

“Look Jack,” Mark responds. “I was friends with you once.” Jack tenses up slightly and looks away. Mark edges closer to him on the branch, gritting his teeth and hoping that he won’t hear a snap as the branch begins to give out.

“I can be friends with you again.”

“We’ll see,” Jack still doesn’t look at Mark. That is, until Jack sighs. He wipes his red eyes with his sleeve and tries to put on a better, optimistic face. “I guess we’ll have a lot of time together after school with all the detention.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mark laughs. “This friendship is already off to a great start.” This earns a small chuckle and even a smile from Jack. Mark, in response, finds himself smiling too. The two grow closer, something drawing them nearer to each other…

The moment is broken by the sound of footsteps that grow louder and louder. Jack’s smile disappears and is replaced by pure panic. He bolts up to his face and away from the window.

“You’ve got to go  **now** .” Jack panics. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Mark nods with widened and worried eyes. Before he leaves, he pauses, trying to think of something to say. Instead, Jack motions for him to leave and anticipate an open door and the dreaded person with the heavy feet to find him.

Mark climbs into the treehouse and can’t bare to stay to watch the bedroom door opening. He doesn’t directly watch the figure come towards Jack and he doesn’t see the shouting and arguing.

He can hear it all though as he skitters away and reaches the ground. He grimaces as he hears the slap. He can hear the tsunami of questions and demands as Mark tiptoes to his car. He hears the sting of insults and the protests of shouts that are soon overcome by the roar of his car engine. The patter of rain drowns out the sound of pain coming from house 34 on Wren Way.

Mark pulls away, trying not to think about Jack’s shaking hands, his shortened breath, his widened eyes. He grips the wheel until his knuckles are white. 

Instead of heading home, he turns into the parking lot of Marvin’s Market. Now is not the time to be stingy with cash because this next batch of cookies would be fucking fantastic.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been very busy and I shall still be busy for a long time. I haven't been able to touch "The Labyrinth" sadly because of some school stress. I have gotten a therapist, but this year has not been kind to me let's just say. Fingers crossed that things will get better soon! :)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading this. Hope your day/night has been good and see ya next time.


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